The Young Magician (The Legacy Trilogy) (85 page)

‘I reckon you’ll get your chance, Magician,’ Captain Orrell said. ‘And I hope you enjoy it.’

They had been hurtling along the roadway for a full day when the magicians had to admit they could not go on. They had exchanged their tired mounts for fresh ones every time they came to an Imperial garrison or met soldiers patrolling the road, but the long hours of constant motion had taken their toll on the magicians. Samuel had been sad to see Jess left behind, but he had no other choice. The animal was spent and no amount of magic was going to keep her on her legs much longer, so they had left her behind in Dunbarton in exchange for a fresh ride.

They had afforded themselves six hours’ sleep in a busy country inn, but Samuel’s head had no sooner touched the pillow than the others were already rousing him. His body ached with each movement, but somehow he managed to stay on his horse hour after painful hour. The others were also feeling the strain, and they all said little, except for the brief moments when they were dropping from one horse to climb upon another.

They were barely half a day from Cintar when heavy rain set in, filling their eyes and making the trip even more miserable. Captain Orrell, leading the way, raised his hand and began to slow his mount. His last four remaining men did the same and the magicians pulled back on their reins, letting their horses fall back into a gentle canter. Ahead, there was a large encampment beside the road and a soldier was hailing for them to stop.

‘Ho, there!’ Orrell called to the man as they neared. Troops were armed and readied at their tents and began to stand and take notice as the magicians arrived.

‘Ho, Captain Orrell!’ the man returned. ‘We have been waiting for you here a long time.’

‘Captain Garret’s company?’ Orrell asked the man.

‘Aye, Sir. He’ll be here momentarily.’

‘What in damnation are you doing here?’ Orrell commanded him to explain. ‘You were supposed to meet us at Hammenton.’

‘Hammenton? I’m sorry Sir,’ the man replied. ‘I haven’t heard anything about that at all.’

A tent flap flew open and a middle-aged, stocky man clanked out. He was not wearing the light riding armour of Captain Orrell, but the heavy plated armour of the city garrisons. He looked almost like a living fortress himself.

‘Captain Garret!’ Orrell called out from atop his mount.

‘Ah, Captain Orrell,’ the other man replied with a rough voice, clanking over. ‘You’ve finally arrived. What’s happened to your squad?’

‘All dead. Just these men are left. I’m taking the magicians back to Cintar.’

‘Ah,’ Captain Garrett returned. ‘Then I need to speak with you. There have been a few developments you should be aware of. Let your men rest a moment and get out of the rain. We’ll ready you fresh horses for the rest of your journey.’

Orrell looked back at the magicians for a moment, and also to his men. ‘Wait here, magicians,’ he told them. ‘I’ll just be a moment.’ He swung himself down and went to talk with the gruff older man out of the rain.

Samuel let his horse step up besides Master Glim’s. Ahead, from a pair of tents, Samuel could see the telltale shimmer of magic emanating.

‘Can you feel it?’ Samuel asked of his teacher.

Master Glim nodded, looking grim.

‘What does it mean?’ Samuel asked him. ‘What would magicians be doing, hiding away like that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Master Glim mused. ‘Lomar, what do you think?’

Lomar moved up to the other side of Master Glim. ‘This could be a trap. These men seem unsettled—not as if they have finished their duty by finding us, but rather as if their work is about to begin.’

Samuel looked to Captain Garret’s men. They were eyeing him back and looked serious. They had the look of men who were waiting to act. Lomar was right.

‘Perhaps,’ Master Glim replied. ‘They are readying spells. It can’t be good.’

Just then, Captain Orrell came striding back. ‘It seems Captain Garret can help us. We can eat something and change our horses here before setting off again.’

‘I don’t think so, Captain,’ Master Glim told him, his eyes glancing to Garret’s men. ‘Something here is out of place.’

Captain Orrell looked back at the camp and regarded it for several moments before turning back to the magician.

‘I believe you’re right,’ he said softly. ‘You have good instincts for a magician. If anything happens, make for the city and ride as fast as you can.’ Orrell turned to his men and spoke loudly to Valiant. ‘Lead the magicians to the back of the camp. Tie their horses up there and then come and get something to eat.’ At the same time, Samuel noticed him put his finger to his ear, as if scratching it. Valiant nodded back in quiet understanding, and Samuel was sure they had passed a secret sign.

‘As you wish, Captain,’ Valiant replied.

A slight movement caught his eye and Samuel glimpsed riders gathered amongst the trees.

Captain Orrell nodded to Master Glim. He mouthed the word ‘go’ silently with his lips. With a sudden shout of ‘
ya!
’, Orrell’s men kicked their heels into their mounts and sent them leaping forward, out of the hands of Garret’s men. Master Glim followed suit and Samuel did the same, followed by the others. Captain Orrell was already astride his horse and ready to follow them.

They galloped away from the camp and into the trees, with Garret’s men shouting in pursuit and with drawn swords. Branches struck Samuel’s face, but he did his best to follow Master Glim’s mount in front. A flash of magic drew this attention and Samuel caught sight of a magician darting through the trees towards them. A spell flew out at Master Glim. It had the look of a Moving spell and Samuel met it with a counter spell of his own. Just then, a battle cry sounded beside him and a man appeared from the bushes, swinging his sword towards Samuel with all his might. Samuel cried out and tried to pull his horse aside, but there was no time. He swung his leg right out of the stirrup as the man’s weapon struck. Samuel’s horse screamed as the weapon bit into it and the animal threw him from the saddle.

Samuel toppled head over heels and crashed into the prickly bushes. His instincts had him back on his feet and running blindly as more cries sounded behind. The others had already sped past on their horses, but Samuel had to carry himself on his own two legs as the sounds of pursuit dogged him. Looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of a number of men all pushing through the branches after him. It was then that his next footfall met nothing, and Samuel slipped down an embankment, tumbling through the air and rolling down a muddy slope.

‘After him!’ came cries from behind and men began treading down after him, being careful not to slip down the sides, which had been made treacherous by the rain.

Samuel was on his feet and off again, following the narrow gully as fast as he could go. The sides were rocky and steep, so he continued running along it, hoping to find somewhere he could climb out and lose his pursuers. His thoughts turned to his magic, but he was so fatigued from riding and running that he could barely feel a hint of magic inside himself. He ran until, exhausted, he bent over with his hands on his knees and struggled to regain his breath, stumbling the last few steps. He looked back and could hear the men’s shouts nearing, their armour clanking as they ran after him through the rain.

I have to stop them
, Samuel thought to himself.
But what good is my magic if I’m always too bloody tired to use it?

He had a pain in his side, but he forced himself to stand upright as the men came into view. They slowed to a walk on sight of the magician waiting before them. Despite their numbers, they were facing a member of the Order, and Samuel’s black clothes gave them reason enough to be tentative. One man nodded for some of the others to move in, and they began to creep towards Samuel with their swords held forward.

Samuel eyed the sides of the gully, but they looked too difficult to climb. The men would be at his back before he had time to even scale part way. Instead, he closed his eyes and forced his shallow breaths to become longer and deeper. He could feel magic far away, lingering beyond his reach and he beckoned for it to come nearer. He could feel the soldiers nearing, but he tried to ignore them as he concentrated on tapping the
source
. Unarmed and untrained in combat, he had no way to survive against swords of steel. Magic was his only defence and, without it, any magician was helpless—even useless.

Calming his mind, he called again and he was overjoyed as he felt a sudden tug in the pattern towards him—he had it. Magic slowly came creeping in, ever so slowly at first, but growing steadily, more and more. With each heartbeat, his reserves of power increased. Time was what magicians needed most. These soldiers, wary of the lone magician, had given Samuel exactly what he needed to defeat them. When he opened his eyes once again there was a smile on his lips.

The men came at him through the rain. Samuel had not yet decided on any particular spell to use against them, but as the closest man broke ranks and came running forth, magic sprang from Samuel before he knew it. The soldier flew from his feet and sailed clear past his fellows to land skidding along the gully floor behind the others. The others stopped and looked to their comrade with wide eyes as the soldier groaned and unsteadily regained his feet.

Samuel’s smile grew wider as he felt more and more power filling inside him. It was growing greater within him now, swelling to such proportions that he felt he could do anything. The pain in his side and the yearning in his lungs vanished as he took a step towards the armed men.

‘Kill the magician!’ one soldier cried out and they all came charging forward. The first two men were nearer than the others, barely an arm’s length away, when Samuel grabbed them each in turn and sent them flying back, crashing onto the others. The remaining soldiers cried out defiantly as they continued forward with their swords aimed towards him. Just defending against these soldiers was not enough. They would need to be dealt with quickly and finally. And now he had pushed them all to a safe distance, he had gained the space he needed.

Samuel spread his hands wide as he pushed his magic out into the earth. He grasped the rain-sodden, gully walls and, with a sudden surge of power, Samuel brought his arms together. The dark, rocky earth on both sides exploded free and fell in upon the men like great waves crashing down. They only had time to scream and raise their hands to their faces before they were all slammed down and buried beneath the tons of damp earth and stone.

Samuel laughed at the sight, for his magic and fatigue had left him somewhat light-headed. He thought about climbing out of the depression he had made, for roots and stone that he could use as hand-holds stuck out from the earth, but the soil looked unsteady and dangerous. Instead, he turned and continued trotting unsteadily along the gully.

A flash of light gave him a moment’s notice, and Samuel had a spell shield in place as a stream of magic came flying down from the gully top.

‘He’s over there!’ came a distant shout.

Samuel continued on, eyeing the gully sides for any further sign of attack. Ahead, the gully flattened out. A large puddle had formed there and Samuel came splashing out into a large stony quarry. Galloping down on his left came a dozen armoured riders with Captain Garret on a great beast of a horse at the lead and two mounted magicians following at their rear. They spread out before Samuel and their horses snorted and stamped impatiently.

‘Well, it looks as though we’ve caught at least one of your miscreants,’ Captain Garret announced.

‘You should go on ahead after the others, Captain,’ one of the magicians responded. ‘We can take care of this one. He has no power to speak of.’

Garret nodded and was about to turn his horse to leave when Samuel shouted up at him.

‘Don’t think you can be rid of me so easily!’ he called out. The rain felt like ice upon his cheeks.

The grey-bearded captain bared his teeth and smiled. ‘Very well, Magician. Have it your way. We’ll kill you quickly and then be off together. The other traitors will all be rounded up eventually, whether they make it past me or not.’

‘Traitors?’ Samuel responded. ‘It seems you’ve been misled, Captain. No matter. Very well, come kill me if you can.’ His magic was still dancing on his skin, crackling in his skull and tickling behind his eyes.

‘Let me,’ the second magician said. ‘I’ll give it to the Outlander for thinking he can match our Turian blood.’ He was bald-headed, and bore a small, pointed beard. Samuel disliked him immediately.

‘I’d wager you are a true Turian,’ Samuel called to the man.

‘Why is that?’ the bald magician responded, as he climbed down from his horse.

‘Because you are all the same: arrogant, self-righteous and bigoted. You deserve to lose your precious Empire.’

The bald man laughed. ‘And I haven’t met an Outlander like you who didn’t deserve to be crushed.’

The magician called upon his power. He seemed quite strong, but he was not nearly powerful enough. Samuel’s head was light, but he knew he could not lose. He was about to say something clever and demeaning to the man, when a hint of magic at the corner of his eye caught his attention. He dived aside as a great boulder, the size of a wagon, crashed down beside him with a massive boom that shook the earth.